


Hetalia Coffee Shop AU (Title to be Announced)

by forever_doodling_tardises



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Abusive Parents, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Deaf Canada, Deaf Character, Minor Character Death, Multi, Rated for Later Content, Trans Italy, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 15:41:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2627135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_doodling_tardises/pseuds/forever_doodling_tardises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a wonderful little local coffee shop on the corner of Mayberry Lane and White Avenue, just off campus of Nations United University, that I think everyone should patronize at least once. It’s called One Earth Coffee. Not only are the drinks and pastries (and WiFi) supreme, the place is a delightful hub of multiculturality - a fitting quality for a shop located so near what is widely famed as the most diverse college in the world. So let’s take a look inside, shall we? We’ll begin with a young man named Alfred F. Jones. It’s his first day on the job, and he’s in for quite the caffeinated journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hetalia Coffee Shop AU (Title to be Announced)

“So, first day, huh?” the dirty blond man said in a heavy British accent.

“Yeah,” Alfred said, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically self-conscious as he tried to smooth the stray lock of hair that always stuck up.  “Do you think you could show me around?”

“Sure,” the man said, turning around from the coffee grinder for the first time. Alfred’s eyes were immediately drawn to the oddest pair of eyebrows he had ever seen. Below them, however, was one of the handsomest faces he had ever seen. Alfred quickly banished that thought. First day of work, couldn't afford to be tripping on his feet over his new coworker. “I’m Arthur Kirkland,” the man continued, “and I will be your tour guide for this journey.” He chuckled to himself a bit. “Come on then. I’ll show you around.”

The pair made their way first through the two gloomy back rooms. “These are all our coffee bags and tea tins. Our stock is refreshed every month or so. It’s all fair trade, Elizabeta sees to that. If you haven’t already, you’ll meet her later. Anyway, all this coffee is arranged alphabetically by country of origin, then by roast. The tea is, again, organized by country. Then it’s sorted by name - Tieguanyin, Earl Grey, et cetera. And in here-” Arthur pushed a red curtain out of the doorway of the second room, holding it open for Alfred. “In here we keep our sugar, our three huge fridges - those hold cream, milk, pastries, and things - our spare batteries, and anything else we might need. It’s all in here. The door’s a bit hidden, but it leads back behind the counter. Here, I’ll point out the people to you and then show you around the machinery.” The door was, indeed, well-concealed. The two ducked through, nearly bumping into a tall, blond man who was standing directly in front of the door on their way into the main room. He turned around, giving Alfred a dazzling smile. “What’s this? New blood? And handsome, at that.” Arthur shoved him out of the way before he could get any further, growling a low “Save it, Francis,” to the blue-aproned man. Moving away from Francis, who was still winking, Arthur whispered, “Sorry about that. He’s Francis. Flirts with everything that moves.”

“It’s all a-okay,” Alfred assured Arthur. Arthur nodded, grabbing Alfred’s hand (a gesture not lost on the American) and leading him over to a pretty young woman wearing a traditional Hungarian folk dress and flowers in her light brown hair. She had just finished setting up the cash register when Arthur tapped on her shoulder. She turned around with a small smile and waved to Alfred. “You must be Alfred Jones. I was hoping you’d be able to start today - we’re a little low on personnel.” She laughed, a short, musical thing. “I’m Elizabeta Héderváry. I’m in charge of stocking and sourcing.” She extended her hand for Alfred to shake. He did so with gusto.

“Pleased to meet you, Elizabeta,” Alfred said. Arthur, however, quickly tugged him away, forcing him to wave a hasty goodbye to her.

Arthur leaned out over the edge of the marble counter, putting his weight on his hands. He began whispering covertly to Alfred as customers started filtering in. “That’s Ivan,” he said when the door jingled for the first time, revealing a short, broad-nosed man with grey-blond hair, a fur hat, a heavy white coat, and a matching scarf around his neck. He walked into the darkest corner to where a single squashy purple armchair sat, unslinging his computer bag from his shoulder and sitting down. “None of us really know just what he does on his computer all day, since nobody’s seen him attending any of the Uni classes. But he sits there, all day, every day, drinking a mixture of vodka and espresso. Nobody’s stupid enough to take his seat. There’s a very probable theory that he’s hacking various government databases. I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s scary enough for it.”

“Really?” Alfred was startled. Ivan seemed innocuous enough.

“Oh, yeah. Gives off some really nasty vibes when he wants to. Anyway,” the Brit continued, guiding Alfred’s eyes to a pair in identical dress that had just come through the door. “See the blondes?” Alfred nodded. “The one with hair-ribbons is Tutsia Vogel, the one without is Basch Zwingli. They’re not actually siblings, but they might as well be. Basch found Tutsia and helped her out when she was in danger. Now they’re like a big brother and little sister to each other. Actually, they’re practically joined at the hip. It’s a little creepy sometimes. They’ll even order in unison. You’ll see once they come to you. It’s eery.

“Aaand nobody else’s here yet. Oh!” The doorbells made a third noise, and in tumbled a lot of cold wind, some snow, and two new arrivals. One, with brown hair and a curl sticking out of his hair at an odd angle. The other, with black hair cut slightly choppy across the forehead, then straight down over the ears. Speaking of which, they were both wearing headbands with cat ears on them. Arthur ushered the two, who were clutching each other’s hands tightly, behind the counter to greet Alfred. “This is Kiku Honda and Iraklis Karpuzis. Kiku, Iraklis: Alfred F. Jones. Our new barista.” Iraklis smiled, and Kiku inclined his head slightly and blinked once.

“Hi,” Alfred said.

“Hello,” Kiku replied. “We’ll be your fellow baristas.” He said the last word as though it was unfamiliar in his mouth.

Meanwhile, Iraklis was setting down what looked to be a small cat carrier on the floor of the coffee shop. He unzipped the top, and out jumped a little grey cat. “The coffee-shop cat?” Alfred asked with a grin.

“Yep,” Iraklis confirmed. “That’s Nekogoro. He has four cat-siblings, but we can’t have five cats running around this place, much as we’d like it.” He knocked Kiku lightly with his shoulder. “So they live back at our apartment, and Nekogoro comes here during the day. He’s our fifth cat-child - hence his name. Don’t worry,” Iraklis continued. “If you’re gonna stress about sanitation, don’t. It’s all approved, we’ve got permits. He doesn’t come near the food, and there’s a separate room for his food and litter.”

“Cool,” Alfred remarked.

“Yeah. Well, Kiku and I have to set up the machinery. Wanna help? We’ll show you how it works.”

Alfred remembered Arthur’s earlier promise, but he looked busy talking to Elizabeta, and besides, he’d probably be glad somebody had taken Alfred off his hands. “Sure,” he agreed, following them to the far end of the counter.

“Gosh,” Iraklis bemoaned as he pulled a lever on something that looked like it could make mince out of Alfred’s head. “We’re so late. Hope Elizabeta doesn’t chuck us in the coffee grinders.” Then he saw the look on Kiku’s face. “Sorry,” he said, covering his mouth with his hands.

“It’s okay,” Kiku said quietly, digging his thumb into the palm of his hand, it seemed subconsciously. “Just, try not to, okay?”

“Okay,” Iraklis said, the look on his face rivaling any tenderness Alfred had seen before. Then, in a flash, he was back to the machinery. “So this,” he explained, holding up a cream-and-brown cylindrical container for Alfred to see, “is one of our grinders. Sometimes they jam, like this one’s doing. here’s how to fix that.” And he spent the next thirty minutes showing Alfred how to unjam a grinder, how to brew coffee, how to add milk without it curdling, and how to avoid splattering hot tea all over the floor (“Just don’t get anywhere near that pot, it has a cracked spout”). With small interjections and corrections from Kiku, he told Alfred about what to do when you knock things down, get a customer’s order wrong, or tread on the cat’s tail. Then they took off to serve the pseudo-siblings, leaving Alfred with a call of “Good luck!” Alfred sure hoped so. _It looks like I’ll need it,_ he thought, poking the lever on the mince-looking machine. It let out an odd twanging sound, and Alfred resolved never to touch it again unless he absolutely had to.

 

 


End file.
